For Her Daughter
by Myrile
Summary: one night in Fantine's life. kind of sad. her thinking about how she does everything for her daughter.


**AN:** This is how I think Fantine would have felt. It's kind of sad I guess.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Les Mis even though I would love to and I'm not making money off of this fic even though that'd be great too.

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**For Her Daughter**

Fantine looked around the street. It was dank, dark, and quiet. Of course it was. Well lit, clean streets were for the rich. Well not the rich, but the respectable. She clenched her fists. If only. If only she could be walking up there on those well lit streets. But the people up there. They would spit on her. And all because they didn't understand.

Sometimes life falls out from under us. Fantine knew it was true. She'd just never thought it would be her. It was strange how her one joy had destroyed her life. Her dear daughter had made her lose her job, made it impossible for her to find a job, made everyone call her a whore. But it was her daughter she kept living for.

Why couldn't they forgive? True she had made a mistake but hadn't she repented for long enough? She had trusted a man and that trust had turned on her. She couldn't say it wasn't her fault, because it was, but why couldn't G-d be a forgiving G-d? Why did He hate her so? She knew she must deserve this suffering for some reason but for the life of her she just couldn't figure out what.

She reached her destination quickly but in her misery it seamed to take forever. She stopped outside a smallish wooden apartment building. A man stood outside the door, looking about. He leered at Fantine. "You're late, girl." Fontine looked down, not saying anything. "Get inside," he spat, "someone's waiting for you. It's a busy night." She walked silently in through the door and into a filthy room.

An unshaven man was standing impatiently in the room. He turned around a grabbed her arm when he heard the door shut. "Finally," he growled, "you took long enough." He pushed her into the nearest empty room. It wasn't even a proper bed room, just a spare room with a table, some straw on the ground, and two blankets. "Get undressed." He said brusquely.

Her fingers were trembling as she unlaced her dress and pulled it off over her head. Calm down, she thought, you've done this one thousand times before Fantine, this time's on different. But it's always bad, another voice in her head responded. Fantine closed her head to those voices. This is the way it has to be, that's all. It's just the way it has to be.

"Hurry up." The man growled. Fantine hurried to remove her undergarments wincing as one of her hands brushed her shorn hair. That was another thing she had done for her Cosette. She had cut off her precious hair; the only thing she had liked about her appearance had been her hair but now it was gone. Now she couldn't even smile, she couldn't even laugh without feeling ashamed. For her daughter she had sold her two front teeth but it had not been enough. So she had gone on to this.

She stood there shivering as he pulled off his boots. Some didn't even bother to do that. There was no light in the room and the man didn't look at her. They never did. That would acknowledge that you where human. If this man saw her on the streets, she thought, he wouldn't even recognize her.

He shoved the money into her hand and pulled down his pants. Fantine wanted to yell, wanted to push him away as he forced her down onto the blankets. She bit her lip hard to stop herself from screaming. She clenched her hands around his shoulders as it began again. Cosette, she thought, my Cosette.

He was done quickly. It felt like a lifetime. But he was done. He got up and threw the money on the floor. He never once looked at her, never bothered to see her face. He just tossed the money at her and left. Fantine picked up the money slowly, feeling the cold bight of metal in her hand. She almost laughed at the irony of it. A daughter's life bought with her mother's flesh.

Fantine stared into the darkness, the money clenched in her hand. She couldn't bear to look at that money. Even just holding it made her feel empty, dirty. She shifted uncomfortably. The smell of the room disgusted her. The feel of the blankets revolted her. She had cried the first time, after it was done, but she didn't cry any more. It was just another thing a mother would do for her daughter.

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**AN:** I hope you liked it. I think its how she would have felt. Please review. Constructive criticism is welcome. Thanks.


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